


Ananke

by Etrangere



Category: Tokyo Babylon, X/1999
Genre: Gen, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etrangere/pseuds/Etrangere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seishirou makes a strange encounter after a kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ananke

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about a couple of months after the end of Tokyo Babylon. Tiny spoiler from X16.

The kill is short as it always is.

He removes his hand from the gaping wound, embracing the still body as he always does and carries it as he walks. It is mid-afternoon, but the sunlight cannot pierce the veil of illusion he and the corpse are warped under, and none of the kissing couples, running children and chatting mothers notice him as he brings the carcass to the Tree.

He lays the body against the bark, watching the blood dripping and oozing around the roots as it always does in a hypnotic tide.

Why did this one have to die among so many? He never chooses his victims. He is not a judge, he is merely an executant. After all who deserves to die or to live on? His killing are dictated by chance, fate and necessity. Some, they are whispered to him by the gust of wind charged with sakura petals. "This one", It says, "this one needs to die." Some, they are asked of him by brief, anonymous letters sent by People in Charge. It amuses him somehow, that People would think that they were in Charge, but he kills them all the same. Some, at last, they are merely the unlucky, those who were at the wrong place at the wrong moment. He kills them all as he always kills, quickly, smoothly, with the gentleness of a neat execution. It matters not whether he likes or not to kill them. The world is a garden, and he is the Sakurazukamori. He kills those who need to be killed so as to keep the garden well. He cuts the threads and the plants that would stain the world's beautiful symmetry. It is his task, his duty, and he relishes it.

That's when he notices the little girl crying as she watches him.

He starts, surprised to see a mere child having seen through the Maboroshi,

 _/Not that this is the first time.../_

but then he notices the girl's huge, sorrowful, gray eyes and he understands it is not human.

"What are you doing here?" He asks quietly, his tone of voice never betraying the uneasiness and tension he feels at the sight of those hollow eyes.

The little girl who is not a girl raises her head a little, still shedding tears soundlessly from her deep, swirling eyes, and thousands and thousands of other little crying girls raise their heads within a dark infinity.

 _"We are here crying._

 _We are those who cry_

 _We cry for those who need crying for_

 _To hold the world together_

 _Until the Promised Day."_

He watches her/them with attention as the chorus of voice resonates into his head like echoes ricocheting between elemental mountains beneath the surface of reality.

"Ah," He says as his usual easy smirk settles on his face, "you are here to cry for the ones I come to feed the tree?" and thinking back to the haunting image of a figure dressed in the bloodied white of sacrifice. "You are here to cry for the ones who die yearning for compassion and sorrow as they wallow in self-pity for their lost innocence?"

 _"No._

 _No._

 _We are not here to cry for those who were cherished_

 _For those who were innocent_

 _For those who were rich with passion,_

 _And delight,_

 _And regrets._

 _We are not here to cry for those who died holding heir heart full_

 _With hope_

 _With love_

 _And bravery._

 _For those we do not cry_

 _Except in joy."_

There’s wonder, then, shortly in his expression and he asks again.

"Then why? Why are you here for?"

 _"We cry for those who need crying for_

 _for those empty of tears_

 _for those no one will cry for_

 _We cry for those who do not know_

 _They even need crying for_

 _We cry,_

 _Sakurazuka Seishirou,_

 _For you._

 _And for loneliness_

 _Because"_

Thousands and thousands of little girls who are not girls look down within a dark immensity and disappear like a deck furling back, and only one remains to quote back to him: _"There is not such thing as a person who should not love anybody."_

Before disappearing too.

Well. He arches an eyebrow at that, turning back to the body now emptied of blood. He grasps it and finishes taking care of it, sending its soul to oblivion and the flesh back to the hungry earth.

With sure hands he gets and cigarette and lights it, leaning against the tree as he observes the darkening sky.

There will be rain soon, he thinks.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the shadowy aroma. Half-closing his eyes, he appreciates that acre pleasure before blowing out the dancing smoke, and smiles with just a dash of self-depreciation underneath the cynical confidence.

"But I don’t need crying for," He says softly, addressing to no one in particular.

The rain starts to fall down soundly over Tokyo and its inhabitants.


End file.
